More Than A Memory
by phoenixmagic1
Summary: Huddy oneshot. Based on the song More Than A Memory by Garth Brooks. Rated T for swear words and alcohol use. House reflects on what his life has become now that Cuddy has left him.


1/3/2008

Disclaimer: I don't own the song "More Than A Memory" It's sung by Garth Brooks. I don't own House or Cuddy either, David Shore does.

Rated: T

Please R&R

The blue eyed, and brilliant House was showering and listening to the radio. He had just finished showering when he stepped and limped out of the shower and dried himself off. He hadn't slept in days which were nothing new because of his leg, but this was more of a weary, tiredness that came from a broken heart. He was broken hearted because his lover, Lisa Cuddy had left him.

Cuddy and House had been together for a few years. They had been friends while in med school, they were currently colleagues at PPTH and they were lovers. '_Were lovers' the thought stung House deeply in the heart._ He loved her with all he had. He thought that after Stacey he would never love anyone again, and then came Cuddy.

At first things between them were great, they still fought like cats and dogs at work but they got along very well at home. They had even moved in with each other, Cuddy had moved in with House. They both thought they could make it work. Then came the mother of all fights. House had steadily been increasing his Vicodin intake, which of course House hadn't told Cuddy about and when she found out she was livid! When she had calmed down enough not to beat him with his own cane, she tried talking him into switching to some other meds or even getting help for his drug addiction, which he refused to acknowledge.

It was a never ending battle of wills between the two lovers and this was what pushed Cuddy over the edge and essentially out the door. She was dog tired of dealing with him and his shit, of his denial of having a drug problem and his ever increasing intake of Vicodin, as well as his not wanting to switch to a different medication. She had taken all she could take.

He wasn't a man to listen to country music but he had heard this song on the radio a while back and it had hit him like a ton of bricks. It totally and completely described his current situation.

House remembered the exact day and time she had left him. It had been two weeks ago, a Thursday night at 7:00p.m. and since then his life had been a living hell.

_People say she's only in my head _

_It's gonna take time but I'll forget _

_They say I need to get on with my life _

_But they don't realize _

In the weeks that followed Cuddy's departure, House had drank himself into a stupor and hadn't let up one bit. He hadn't come into work drunk, but everyone could tell that he was going through hell. To top it all off, Cuddy had barely spoken to him since he had come into work each day. She would only talk to him when it was necessary, like when she had to bug him to go and do his clinic hours. Other than this and other necessary conversations regarding patients they barely spoke.

Wilson had seen how much this had hurt House and tried to tell him that he needed to get on with his life, that there was more to life that just Cuddy. But House, being a stubborn ass, didn't believe him and continued to drown his sorrows in whiskey almost every night.

_When you're dialing six numbers just to hang up the phone _

_Drivin across town just to see if she's home _

_Wakin' a friend in the dead of night _

_Just to hear him say it's gonna be alright _

_When you findin' things to do not to fall asleep _

_Cause you know she'll be there in your dreams _

_That's when she's more than a memory _

House recalled when he first tried calling Cuddy's home number. It had been only a few days after she had left him and for once he wasn't drunk when he was dialing her number. The phone rang and rang and meanwhile Cuddy knew that it was House calling her and trying to win her back. But she wanted nothing to do with him. And admitting defeat he hung up the phone and called Wilson instead.

Wilson had been supportive of House during this time and made time to listen to House go on and on about much he missed and loved and wanted Cuddy back in his life. Wilson, being smart, instead of saying 'I told you so', told his friend that life would be okay again, that he would get through this. With the end of that chat, House hung up the phone feeling a little bit better. But he still drank the day away.

_Took a match to everything she ever wrote _

_Watched her words go up in smoke _

_Tore all her pictures off the wall _

_That ain't helping me at all _

House remembered when, in a drunken stupor one night, he had gone into his bedroom, into his kitchen and living room and collected all of the pictures of him and Cuddy. Then House limped to the fireplace, where he lit a fire. Then one by one he through the pictures in the fire. It was then; in that moment that he knew it was all over.

After he had thrown away all of the pictures, he took a long pull from the whiskey bottle in his hand and then carelessly threw it in the fire. Fire and alcohol went everywhere and burned the pictures even faster. He didn't care at all, he just limped over to his kitchen and grabbed another bottle of whiskey, opened it and continued drinking.

_Cause when you're talkin' out loud and nobody's there _

_You look like hell and you just don't care _

_Drinkin' more than you ever drank _

_Sinkin' down lower than you ever sank _

_When you find you self fallin' down upon your knees _

_Prayin to God, beggin' him please _

_That's when she's more than a memory _

In the past few weeks, House had done nothing but drink and eat, but just barely. His clothes hung off his now skinnier than usual frame and his face looked haggard, more so from the emotional hell than from the pain in his leg. House hadn't slept in what seemed like forever, and to him it probably was. His leg hurt him more than ever, but he barely noticed it due to the large amounts of Vicodin and alcohol in his body. But he didn't give a shit as to what he looked like. He was going through hell and didn't care if anyone saw or not.

_She's more _

_She's more _

_Cause when you're dialing her number just to hang up the phone _

_Drivin across town just to see if she's home _

_Wakin a friend in the dead of night _

_Just to hear him say it's gonna be alright _

_When you're findin thing to do not to fall asleep _

_Cause you know she's waiting in your dreams _

_That's when she's more than a memory _

_People say she's only in my head _

_It's gonna take time but I'll forget_

House knew that his life as he knew it was over. The only two things in his life that once had meaning, that kept him going were his love and relationship with Cuddy as well as his job at PPTH. Both of them were shit, total shit. He had nothing to life for anymore. He knew that he would never love again or get on with his life as long as Cuddy was gone.

With that House walked out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist, grabbing his cane, he limped into his bedroom and rooted around for a pair of clean underwear, sweatpants and a t-shirt. Having those clothes on, he limped out to his kitchen and grabbed an ever present bottle of whiskey and limped over to the couch and sat down. He turned on the TV, opened the bottle, took a pull, set the bottle down and watched as his life as he knew it be over with.

_People say she's only in my head  
_


End file.
